Insanity is Relative
by SinsofMidnight
Summary: After the war, they lost track of him. The entire world swears he's dead, but Duo knows better. He knows that Heero is the man that Death wouldn't accept. One phone call completely changes his life –and possibly his perception of reality. Now he has to fix one formerly perfect soldier, and he won't trust anyone else with the task, because failure isn't an option. 01x02. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_I know that there was a stirring of interest when I originally posted this story._

_This is my attempt to write good, solid Gundam Wing fan-fiction. It's dark and tries to depict the most intimate of hells, and I hope I do my own idea justice, as well at the characters..._

_The new section of fic information will shed some light on a few things... I know reading them can be boring, but it helps set up for the story, and I now do them for every fan-fiction I write ^^_

* * *

**Insanity is Relative**

**_Fandom:_**_ Gundam Wing_

**_Teaser:_**_ "The original Heero Yuy –he had been a pacifist martyred for his beliefs. The child of war that later bore his name had been violent, cruel, calculating, cold, distant: the epitome of the perfect soldier. I couldn't be either of those men –I'd never been the first, and never again could I be the second."_

**_Inspiration:_**_ Watching the show again after half a decade was enlightening. I suppose it's strange that I had forgotten my first two anime crushes for so long. Still, I'm quite a fan of the 01x02 pairing…  
One of my favorite fictions is "Coming Through the Rye" by LinkWorshiper. I suppose it was because of that story –because of that _author_– that I wanted to try my own hand at this pairing._

**_Rating: _**_M for Mature, Macho, and Manly, because each Gundam pilot is at least one of the three :P  
Mostly, this M rating is for mature themes aside from sex. May be ideologically sensitive._

**_Warnings:  
_**_-Male/Male sensuality  
-Mental instability  
-Medical issues  
-Heero, being a bit OOC  
-A smug Chinese bastard:P  
-Dumb nicknames ^^_

**_Main Pairing: _**_Heero Yuy/Duo Maxwell_

**_Minor Pairings:  
_**_-Quarte Winner/Trowa Barton  
-Wufei Chang/OC (Shawna Chang)_

**_Setting: _**_Three years post the conclusion of the series._

**_POV:_**_ Heero and Duo, along with a little bit of third person._

**_Summary:_**_ After the war, they just lose track of him. The entire world swears he's dead, but Duo knows better. He knows that Heero is the man that death never seems to accept. But one phone call completely changes his life –and possibly his perception of reality. Now he has to fix one formerly perfect soldier, and he won't trust anyone else with the task, because no one else has as much to lose if he doesn't succeed._

**_Additional ANs:_**_ This story is special to me, somehow. Maybe it's trying to imagine how the boys would actually mature, or maybe it's because I was really in love with this show as a child, but I find that it is near and dear to my heart.  
Heero speaks little bits of Japanese in this, but in the context of the story, they're pretty well explained ^^  
I started this story when I was in high school, and the writing show the lack of sophistication and maturity. Please don't mind me sprucing up things there and there –maybe adding some fluff between some heavy chapters .  
I hope to finally finish this story after I've done some careful editing._

* * *

_Heero:_

My name should not be Heero Yuy. Not anymore.

I didn't deserve that name –if I were truly honest, I was pretty sure that I never had.

The original Heero Yuy –he had been a pacifist martyred for his beliefs. The child of war that later bore his name had been violent, cruel, calculating, cold, distant: the epitome of the perfect soldier.

I couldn't be either of those men –I'd never been the first, and never again could I be the second. It seemed that all I was capable of being now was the epitome of a perfect mess.

It was strange. They would release me tomorrow. After close to three years of inpatient therapy, the Mental Institute of Tokyo wanted to release me. They wouldn't release me on my own recognizance: they would only allow me to leave if there was someone to care for me. Despite everything, I wasn't really all that sure that I wanted to leave. This place had been my sanctuary, my oasis when I was losing myself. Now, even though I wasn't so sure I'd managed to dig through the fragments to find myself, they wanted to release me. I was sure outpatient therapy on a 21-year old ex-soldier with PTSD to spare would be a _picnic_ for whatever poor schmuck got stuck with me. Not.

I wondered if they would tell me that wanting to recreate myself was normal. I supposed it might be, but that wasn't what I wanted to do. That wasn't the reason I shunned the name Heero Yuy. I _wasn't_ the same man I had been three years before, and there was no way I could return to the perfect soldier. Not when it had broken me this badly. So perhaps the recreation of myself was already complete. Maybe all I really needed to do was give myself a new name. Shaking my head, I tried to dislodge that train of thought.

I focused my attention on my tremor-laced hands. Gods, these hands had never trembled, never hesitated –not before. I touched the phone that hung on the wall and tried to ground myself to my current purpose, my current task.

Somehow, I had made up my mind to make this the first step on a long road of fence-mending in my future. With trembling hands, I picked up the phone and allowed my fingers to dial the phone number that had tormented me in the sweetest of dreams and the darkest of nightmares.

It was stupid to recall that the number belonged to the partner I had drawn portraits of on the floor of the isolation room in my lowest moments. There were some things you couldn't change, and remembering wasn't enough to undo it. Even the perfect soldier had suffered because of his inability to change the past. I didn't see why the perfect mess should be above that.

A groggy voice answered the phone. Had my phone call awakened him from a deep sleep? "Maxwell."

A smile tugged at my lips. At least some things never changed. The way he answered the phone was one of them. "Konban wa, partner," I greeted, making note of the fact it _was_ after 2000 hours.

"Heero?" That ever-lazy sleep-laced drawl became sharper, all drowsiness forgotten.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"Where have you _been_, man? We thought you were _dead_!" he accused suddenly.

I had to take a deep breath. They had worried over me? It warmed me in some ways, but I had no time to deal with that feeling right now. Instead, I pressed on, ignoring the comments for now. _The mission comes first,_ I told myself mockingly. "Duo, I need a small favor."

"Sure, man. What do you need?" he asked.

I appreciated his candor, especially the fact that it somehow still remained for a teammate who had routinely made him miserable, used him, and frustrated him. Shaking my head, I tried to push the thoughts out and focus on his voice and his soft breathing. "Can you pick me up from this address tomorrow?" I rattled off the address I'd seen printed on so many letters from Relina, the address I had printed as my own return address for three years of return mail.

He was silent for a moment. Duo was never silent. I had to wonder if my request had been that surprising, if perhaps he knew the address by some cruel twist of fate. "Will you tell me where you've been?"

His question was surprising, but his persistence made me smile slightly. "It will make sense if you retrieve me. Can you?"

He was silent for a time. "Yeah. Yeah, I can. It's good to hear from you, Hee-man," he said softly.

Gods above, right then I loved that stupid, annoying nickname. It had been the only nickname I'd ever had, and something about the way he said it made me feel less afraid and less ashamed. Hell, it even made me smile. "It's been good to hear your voice, Duo." –_Outside a delusion,_ my mind snarked at me.– "And _arigato_."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, then, Hee-man?"

"Hai," I agreed, nodded my head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm glad you aren't dead, Heero," he told softly, then hung up.

For the first time in three years, so was I. Something about Duo could always make me feel _something_, and I treasured him in a strange sort of way.

Of course, it was that moment that I came to a startling realization: of the four men I could have contacted, of the four men that might still care or feel that they owed me enough to do me a favor, I had chosen to contact the one that I had a childish crush on –the first and only crush I'd had in my short lifetime.

I ran a rough hand through my hair and slammed my palm against a wall. _Stupid, thoughtless boy,_ I chided myself. _You always _were_ a stupid, thoughtless boy, Yuy._

Trying to convince myself that anticipation wasn't coursing through my veins like wildfire, I returned to my cell –I mean room. Looking at the Spartan room spruced up only by the stacks of brightly colored canvases and piles of sheet music, I decided I'd been detained in more comfortable cells. But at least I didn't have to bust myself out of this one.

I smiled as I decided that this situation reminded me of one of my first meetings with Duo Maxwell. History was repeating itself. How interesting.

* * *

_Duo:_

I looked over at the man beside me on the bed for a moment. Wufei slept like the dead beside me. Watching him try to cope when his son's life was in dancer had been incredibly painful. I'd felt like a voyeur watching the deep, restful sleep he'd found only when his pretty wife had called to tell him Wushon was fine. The exhaustion of watching him try to deal had worn me thin as well, so I honestly followed him quickly into Dream Land after that. Now, it was excitement that made me shake his shoulder to wake him. "Wufei!" I exclaimed. "Wake up, Wufei!"

Dark eyes peered out grumpily from beneath heavy, sleepy eyelids. "What?" he growled at me as those hungry eyes took in his surroundings. "What is it, Duo?"

I was sure I was grinning like a deranged lunatic, but I couldn't help it. They'd told me I was wrong. They'd all told me I was crazy for believing, but I knew that Heero Yuy was a man Death refused. Now I couldn't wait to tell them that I was right –not for the rights to the I-told-you-sos, though those would certainly provide me great entertainment, but for the fact that our comrade, our brother in arms was _alive_.

"He's not dead, Wufei. Heero is alive!"

He sat straight up in my bed, suddenly wide awake. _Well, nothing wakes you up quite like highly improbably good news,_ I supposed. "How do you know?"

_I saw it in my crystal ball._

Alright, so apparently the good news I'd been waiting three years for wasn't enough to kill my snarkiness. At least I hadn't said it aloud. "He just called me," I told him. "And I, uh, get the notion that he's a little different from before."

"What makes you say that?" Wufei asked, starting to crawl out of my bed.

His question reminded me that Wufei had certainly been one of the most fervent of those who had doubted me when I claimed my partner was alive. Still, the question was valid enough, so I answered him. "Well, I've never heard him string together that many words in a single setting. And he called me 'Duo'. And he didn't yell at me for calling him 'Hee-man'. And he… he said '_arigato_'."

I wasn't sure if it would mean anything to him, but I knew for a fact that Heero had never _ever_ said that word to me before. He'd been trained since birth to be the perfect soldier, and apparently manners hadn't been part of the training regimen.

Wufei stared at me with an unwavering gaze. "It certainly does make one wonder," he remarked slowly, "what could have happened to change Yuy so much."

Damn it, now he wanted to throw _logic_ into my joy. Luckily, I was well-trained in the ability to ignore logic when at all possible. "Heero said that it would make more sense when I came to pick him up tomorrow," I told him, shrugging absently at the Chinese man who was still half on my bed.

Those cool, wary eyes probed at me. "Might I be allowed to accompany you?"

Such a question actually warranted a moment of thought before I completely waved it away. "I got the feeling that calling me was harder than he wanted me to think. Let's not push too much too fast, yeah?"

I wasn't sure what it had been that made me think Heero might be fragile. 'Fragile' and the Heero I knew probably couldn't coexist in the same sentence. But there were so many changes to be noted from such a short, simple phone call, and that made me believe that the Heero I had known had evolved into something else. I hoped it was for the better, but I wouldn't be sure until I saw him again, spoke to him again.

Wufei finally slid off my bed, mussing the covers he'd been laying atop. "True. In that case, you probably shouldn't tell him about Barton and Winner."

Wufei did have a point: finding out that two of our teammates had embarked on something as complicated as a relationship together might be a shock to the system. "Probably shouldn't tell him you're married, then, either. Though, he might have been keeping tabs on us. That's definitely something 01 would have done."

Of course, the fact that I'd kept the same home number for three straight years strictly because I'd given it to him was not something to bring up at the moment.

When Wufei laughed at me, I figured he was going to bring that up. I was quite surprised by what he said instead. "If that's the case, Duo, you may want to rid yourself of the 'I'm so happy I'm stupid with it' grin you're wearing, or he might figure out you're in love with him."

Huh. And I'd thought I'd hidden it so well. Still, my normal sarcasm and quips leapt to my rescue. "Are you recalling the same man I am? The Heero that we fought alongside knew _squat_ about social interaction, sexuality, and sexual interest."

When he laughed again, it grated on my nerves. "You're the one who insisted that he changed. If it's all for the better… well, he might just surprise you."

When I inquired as to what, exactly, he had meant, he refused to clarify –he only gave me that annoying, infuriating knowing smile as he shrugged into his coat and walked out my front door.

_What in the hell was that supposed to mean?_ I shook my head. _Why do I still hang out with that over-bearing smug Chinese bastard, anyway?_

_Because you've been through hell together. Because you're his son's godfather. Because he may be a smart ass –emphasis on the smart– but he's family._

I sighed, then wondered if Heero would be interested in become a part of this war-forged family. After all, he _had _been our brother in arms, and he certainly deserved a place with us.

* * *

_Okay, so rewatching the series in its entirety really helps. I may have to watch it all again just to keep my inspiration from failing..._

_I really hope that my editing makes this story more interesting, palatable, and more true to the characters... Let me know how I did, won't you? Reviews and PMs about the story are very, very welcome._

_I hope to entertain you all the more this time through!_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	2. Chapter 2

_It's not been so long since I last saw you, now has it? _

_Ah, doves, I hope that this chapter is phenomenal! I put a lot of hard work into it and I've gone back over it several times... Still, if you notice any wonkiness, just let me know and I'll work hard to fix it!_

_Anyway! Enjoy this chapter~_

* * *

_Heero:_

_The Next Morning…_

I'd watched the sun rise this morning.

Last night, when they'd given me my normal sedative, I'd cheeked the pill. This morning, this meeting with a man that I had obsessed over but hadn't seen in three years… I wanted a clear head for those things, and the damn tranqs never seemed to wear off as quickly as they should.

Insomnia was a bitch, but I could handle a few days without sleep. Well, it was more like self-preservation than insomnia. If I slept without the aid of the tranqs, my nightmares and my memory ran rampant. Not having the night terrors was worth the tranqs, I supposed. Didn't mean I had to like that they left me muzzy and drowsy even after they should have worn off.

During the night, I had gathered all of my things –the few items of clothing that I had brought with me when I checked it, the paintings, the sheet music, the clothes and gifts Relena had sent– and packed them in the twin suitcases Relena had provided. It seemed odd that last three years of my life had added more things, more color, more _joy_ than the eighteen years before. Still, I bet that Doctor Shindo would have said it made sense, that my personality, my person, my _everything_ had been stunted and denied for those years.

I'd chosen my clothing for the day with care. Black seemed to be the appropriate color to wear to meet my favorite Shinigami. A black shirt and jeans, just like he used to tend toward. As I had laid them out, I wondered if he would smile to see me in his color. I decided that Duo _would_ smile to see the man that Death refused wearing his banner color, so I'd stuck with my choice.

Doctor Shindo had assured me in that warm, soft voice of hers that I would be okay on the outside now, that I had pulled myself through the worst of it. Bull shit, the lot of it. I hadn't pulled through anything: I had been dragged to it and through it, kicking and screaming all the while. The only reason I had made as much progress as I had was because Doctor Shindo had told me a simple truth of life: most people are still trying to find themselves as when they are in their early 20s. It helped that I didn't see myself as such a freak for having no idea who I was at that age. I could relax into it, open myself to guidance.

Even for the perfect soldier, it's terrifying to learn that your callous upbringing, your former purpose in life –those things that you were bred and trained to do were the things that destroyed you. I had been a good soldier. I had killed few to save the many, sacrificed myself for people who would rather brand me a murderer than admit their own stupid decisions. I had fought battle after battle, infiltrated hide outs, hastily thrown together rescue missions. 'The Perfect Soldier' hadn't been just a label: it had been my ultimate goal.

I wondered what level of security clearance was necessary to view my psychiatric file. Probably a pretty high one, since I had spilled every secret I'd ever been asked to keep. I'd talked about the others, though I'd refused to use their names. I'd talked about missions and things they'd said. I talked about the people that sacrificed themselves to help us. But mostly, I talked about the ungrateful recipients of our sacrifices. It made me angry to see that four of the five Gundam pilots were treated like serial killers instead of heroes –and they were certainly heroes.

Doctor Shindo had asked me once why I talked so much about the other four. I'd laughed and told her, "Because my life was so much _fuller_ when they were around. We were boys of an age, all of us different, all of us the same. I'd never been allowed to meet people my own age before that."

Doctor Shindo hadn't known what to do with that one –at least, she'd seemed a tad lost at the time. Of course, that might have been the barrowed words –Wufei had always referred to us that way, and I always thought it was the best description.

Anyway, when the only things I was ever good at led me to hell that I couldn't escape, not for all the Gundam pilots in the world, they taught me other things. I'd learned piano –first classical, them composition. They taught me how to paint, to express myself in a way that didn't involve violence. Most of my paintings were still very dark, but I felt as though my soul lightened. There were a myriad of other skills they taught me to encourage self-sufficiency: cooking and sewing, among the many. One of my suitcases was mostly full of those canvases –I'd painted one specifically for each of my brothers-in-arms. I'd probably have to ship most of them, but I hoped that they would like them.

I had to smile at that. It was the first time I'd ever worried about conveying a message to an audience, and it was important.

I talked to the receptionist, knowing she flirted with me out of habit, because, really, who wants after a man with PTSD and insomnia, along with the dubious honor of being the only inpatient who had checked himself in to this particular mental institution?

Whenever the lobby doors slid open, my eyes gravitated toward them. I figured that Duo would still be familiar –there's only so much a man can change in three years, right? This time, when the doors slid open, they revealed an older-looking Duo than I had known. He'd allowed that beautiful hair of his to grow even longer, yet he still wore it in a single long braid. It seemed we'd both felt the need to wear the Shinigami's signature color. His black t-shirt stretched tightly across the muscular planes of a chest that had finally filled out. His worn blue jeans rode low on his slim hips, stretched over his legs and at the same time emphasized the length of them, and caressed and cradled the shapely ass that even I would admit I'd often found myself staring at.

He smiled at me. It wasn't that familiar Shinigami smile: not that devil-may-care smile that came with big guns, explosives, and close brushes with Death himself. The smile he wore was unfamiliar on his face, yet somehow suited: it was a tender smile, perhaps a smile of understanding. "Heya, partner," he greeted me, his tone light and almost jovial. "How ya been?"

It surprised me how hard I had to fight back the urge to run to him, to fling myself into his arms and sob like a child, relying on the knowledge that had wormed its way deep into my heart: the knowledge that Duo Maxwell would never let me fall. After a steadying breath, I took an almost leisurely pace as I walked to him. "Hey. Again, _arigato_. For coming to get me."

He closed the distance between us with long strides. Gods, had those legs always been that long? Ruffling my hair, he confided softly, "I was worried about you, Hee-man. You dropped off the face of the earth."

The expression I gave him had to be familiar to him. Doctor Shindo called it my 'default expression': the blank stare that let no one have any glimpse of what was going on in my head. "Let's talk outside," I suggested dully, as though there were no emotion in me. Already, my restless damned soul surprised me with its hunger for the taste of freedom and fresh air. I would need to be free of this place before I could bear my soul to Duo and show him the other facets of the hell he'd frequently drug me through.

He nodded, his expression falling back into a more guarded one.

I acknowledged his answer with a curt nod, then moved back to the desk, hurriedly filling out the ridiculous paperwork I had to finish to leave. So occupied with the paperwork, I barely registered the receptionist telling me that Doctor Shindo wanted to speak to my friend before I left with him.

I looked over my shoulder at him, pacing like a caged lion beside the sofa as he tried to make sense of all the information he was receiving all at once. I wanted to apologize: I felt like I was throwing another emotional nuke at my partner, and I didn't like it. Still, I called out his name softly. "Duo?"

Questions reflected in those vibrant eyes, but Duo didn't ask. Instead, he responded to my summons. "Yeah, Hee-man?"

"My… my doctor wants to speak with you, if that's alright." I really didn't think he needed to know how fucked up I had been –how fucked up I still was– but what the hell did I know? I certainly didn't have a medical degree, and I wasn't exactly testing on the healthy side of psychosis.

Those gorgeous violet eyes flashed and flared wide to reflect his emotional pain for almost a millisecond before he retreated behind his own bland mask. "Sure."

It had never been my intention to hurt Duo by asking him here. I didn't like the guilt swimming in my stomach, and I didn't like the fear swimming in my head.

Most of all, I didn't like that I had taken his smile from him. Gods, how I wanted to see that smile!

* * *

_Duo:_

A mental institution. A fucking _mental institution_!

Well, he had said I'd understand when I came to get him. More than anything, I was glad that I hadn't given into Wufei about bringing him along.

Through all I'd been through with this man, through the hell that became our home, our breath, our life, through the setbacks and trials and conflicts of the war that had always been our purpose, I had never wanted to cry. Never. None of those things had ever hurt me deep enough to make tears pickle at my eyes. I was used to being alone. I was used to not belonging. I was used to never having a place to call home, people to call family, friends to depend on.

But finding out that one of the few men I did call friend had needed help, that he didn't come to any of us, that he had to seek help all alone –that was the first thing in five years that made me want to cry. My eyes began to burn with tears I dare not shed and it took all I had to keep them from falling.

The receptionist blandly sent me back to the doctor's office. There was no doubt in my mind that she was expecting me: her door was open and she sat atop the desk instead of behind it. The doctor was a pretty little thing: petite and blond, with oceanic eyes and a rack that any red-blooded man with an interest in females would have drooled over. Hell, at any other time, I am not ashamed to say that _I _would have drooled over it.

But it wasn't any other time, and she wasn't just any other person. She was Heero's doctor, so she held the keys to a few bits of very important information that I wasn't confident that even _I_ could pry out of that stoic Japanese man. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

Finally, she decided to crack the ice. "I'm Doctor Juli Shindo. Mister Yuy has been my patient for the last three years, Mister…"

Knowing that she expected me to fill that not-so-subtle blank, I sighed before volunteering my last name. "Maxwell. Duo Maxwell."

She studied my face for a moment. "I take it that you were unaware of the situation, Mister Maxwell?" Her voice was soft, kind, soothing. It was no wonder that she made her living as a head-shrinker with a voice like that one.

"No. Fuck, no. We… well, our friends were convinced he was dead. Mother of God! What… what brought him here, to you?"

"Mister Yuy checked himself in one morning a little over three years ago. He was not in a good condition –malnourished, severely paranoid, talking to himself. He kept saying he didn't know who he was anymore, that he had no purpose. Actually, he had to be put on a suicide watch for the first evening he was here, simply because we didn't know if he was suicidal or not and he was in no condition to tell us."

Oh, that voice might have been soothing in any other context, but in this one, it freaked me the hell out. That might have been the news she was delivering, though.

"Christ. His only purpose in life –gone the instant the peace talks reached fruition." Even in that circumstance, I could appreciate the irony. He'd been named after a pacifist, but his only purpose was war. "They raised him that way, and it was all for nothing, all fucking _worthless_ the moment the war ended." I remarked softly.

"You seem to know a great deal about it already. May I ask how, Mister Maxwell?"

I gave her my coldest smile. "Heero Yuy was one of five Gundam pilots. His designation was 01. The military raised him to be the perfect soldier, and he was. He kept to himself, worked hard. He was surprisingly strong for his slim frame and had been observed walking five miles on a broken ankle without so much as a wince. War was his purpose: he was raised to be a tool in one. Now, granted, he was a very special tool with some pretty spectacular abilities, but he was a tool to them none the less. It's no wonder that he was utterly lost without the war."

"That was certainly a non-answer," she remarked. "Still, you must know him well to know all of that. You are a friend of his?"

"We were… boys of a certain age together. We went through a lot of things together." I'd be damned if I would ever tell that smug Chinese bastard that his turn of phrase had ever exited my mouth.

The way her eyes widened told me that she had drawn the proper conclusion from that.

_Ah, we won't tell him that Heero ever said it, either, _I decided.

"Why was it that you needed to see me, Doctor Shindo?" I inquired politely, trying to get back on topic. Heero probably wanted as far from this place as possible, and I certainly couldn't blame him. I'd been here all of twenty minutes and met his doctor, and I certainly wanted to get the hell out of here.

"Ah, yes. Well, he's still struggling a little with his personal identity, but he has been making a huge amount of progress. He's become more open, more willing to communicate. He's still learning some of the subtleties of human interaction, but he's making great strides. All in all, he has made great progress here. However, despite personally pushing for his release, I still have a few… concerns." The doctor actually sounded genuinely worried. "He needs support, community… people who understand him. We tried to do that for him here, but as you might guess, Mister Yuy proved rather… unique in comparison to our other patients."

"If I'm allowed to be candid…?" At her nod, I continued. "Heero and I have been through some of the darkest hells the universe could throw at any person, and we got through them together. We ate together, lived together, and did our best to retain at least an ounce of sanity. Actually, the five of us have been through a lot of things –great sadnesses, great joys, doofy celebrations and pranks. We –that would be myself and the other three– have come to think of each other as family, forged by war and hell and tears. And I know that I will not be the only one to welcome him in with open arms. He is my brother in arms. He is my friend. He is important, and he was never forgotten." I met her gaze head on. "He is intensely important to us."

The smile she wore was genuine, not the smile of a clinician. "I hope and pray that you want what is best for him. The same for your friends, as well. He needs your acceptance in ways he never thought possible, and I believe he also thinks himself in need of forgiveness. Just… don't let him shut you out, and do your best to accept him and the positive changes he has made. And whatever you do, don't let him go. He'll fall again, this time deeper and darker."

"I'll never desert Heero. In fact, I recall a few occasions he was pissed at me because I _wouldn't_," I returned, sarcasm dripping from my tone. "It will be interesting to see how he reacts to such a problem now, I suppose."

* * *

_In the interest of keeping my chapter lengths rather regular, I'm shortening the section of time covered in this chapter. You'll also notice that I've deleted the third chapter -that will be the other half of the original content of this chapter. Also, in the interest of investing you more in the characters and their development, I will be adding in addition chapters to help span what was originally a _three year_ gap between chapters 2 and 3._

_I sincerely hope that you'll see this chapter as improved from its original state. It has been... goodness, has it really been two years since I added any new content to this piece?!_

_Let me know what you like, what you hate, what parts may not be necessary, what parts amuse you or are ridiculous or anything else -but please review or send me a PM. It always helps me to know that people are enjoying or interested in a piece, and reviews and comments always make me want to work all the harder on a piece... well, when they're good reviews, haha._

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello, my doves._

_It's been a bit since I've posted something for your enjoyment ^^_

_This is an edit of a part that was previously posted... I tried to keep some of my favorite lines intact and add to the depth of feeling from each character. If you were an original reader, you might notice that Heero's condition changed in this edit. Therefore, there were several pieces of the conversations that had to change as well._

_In the interest of uniformity in this piece, I'm trying to do about 1000 words in a perspective before I change perspective. Sometimes I get a bit away from myself; sometimes I'm trying to cover everything in the original perspective when I'm writing the edit..._

_Anyway! Without further ado, enjoy~_

* * *

_Heero:_

Was it just me, or was that whole meeting taking entirely too long?

Did Duo _really _need to know just how fucked up I was when I arrived –just how fucked up I still was?

I wanted to cover my face with my hands, but somehow, I refrained. _Why did I call him, anyway?_ I wondered.

_Because that pretty partner of yours is the closest thing you've ever had to a friend, Yuy. _

Now that I really thought about it, it was really rather pathetic. The closest thing I'd ever had to a friend was a brother in arms that I had frequently frustrated, annoyed, used, and otherwise tormented. That he was a brother in arms only served to prove the influence of the military in my life and the way I used to live it. The way that I had _treated_ him only served to prove that I was a fucking bastard and had no idea how to treat a friend or a comrade.

When I had reached the point in which I was about to burst into Doctor Shindo's office, societal rules be damned, the long-haired Shinigami reappeared. My knees weakened in relief at the mere sight of him –but I had no interest in baring that particular sore spot to anyone, not even Duo Maxwell. Straightening my posture, I looked to him and offered him a slight smile.

Surprise crossed his countenance for only a moment before he answered my smile with one of his own. "All ready to go, then, Hee-man?" he inquired lightly.

I couldn't be sure as to what particular tidbits and/or highlights of my time here Doctor Shindo had chosen to impart –though judging by the lingering shadow of pain in his gaze, it hadn't been pleasant– but at least he could still smile at me. That probably meant that she hadn't told him the darkest parts, at least. Knowing her, she'd want me to reveal those moments myself. I wanted to snort at the notion. I wanted him to smile at me and laugh with me and help me learn how to live without war –not send me off to the nearest institution he could find.

Still, I wanted to get the hell out of here and maybe even leave behind the enormous elephant in the room. "_Hai_," I returned, gathering my suitcases and the paperwork and the prescription I was supposed to take with me. "Let's get out of here."

We hurried out of the lobby and onto the walk. It seemed to me that both of us were more than eager to make the Mental Institute of Tokyo little more than a bad memory. I followed the distinctive sound of his footsteps, not even really bothering to look up until we were in the parking lot. He led me to his car and popped the trunk. It wasn't until I settled the suitcases into the deep trunk and gently closed the lid that I realized his black car was a freaking Lamborghini. An amused chuckle slipped past my lips. _Of course _Duo Maxwell would own one of those ridiculous cars that even I had found time to lust after when I was a soldier.

My chuckled summoned a crooked smile to his full lips. "Isn't she a beauty?" he inquired happily. I was proud to see that he resisted the urge to brag on it.

Inclining my head briefly, I voiced my agreement. "She certainly is."

Unfortunately for me, three years cooped up in a mental institution had somehow managed to introduce me to my own hormones. Said hormones were bent on tormenting me with the _delicious _notion of having sex with Duo on the hood of his beautiful car.

Shaking my head to clear it would be too obvious to an observant person like him, so I tried to distract myself by asking him a question. "So what have you been doing to stay busy?"

His gaze met mine over the car as he unlocked it. "What have _you_ been doing to stay busy, Hee-man?" was his clever counter. "Why were you _here_, of all places?"

"Hm. Fair enough," I replied as he slid into the driver's seat. A moment later, I slid into the passenger's seat beside him. "Ne, Duo, when the war ended, what did you feel?"

Those purple-blue eyes sought mine as he slipped the key into the ignition. "I guess I was happy, maybe relieved. A little lost, too. I mean, I was still so used to the war. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, my gaze falling to my feet. "To draw the contrast, of course. I was more than just a little lost: I was… shattered. I was a soldier. It was all I was ever raised to be, trained to be, taught to be. I'd never expected to survive that hell. I'd never had to make decisions for myself outside of a mission. To be blunt, I had no idea how to function as anything other than a toy soldier." A heavy sigh eased past my lips. "So one morning, I stumbled into this place and checked myself in." Looking up and meeting those concerned eyes, I allowed the regret to show. "Relena found me here and decided that I needed a friend. I… I apologize for letting you all think the worst, but if I'd kept in touch, my letters would probably be something along the lines of, 'Today was another lovely day at the loony bin. They placed me by the window so I could feel the sun on what little skin wasn't covered by the straight-jacket.' Relena hates those letters."

"Oh my God. You just made a _joke_!" he exclaimed, cranking the key in the ignition until the car came to life with a subtle purr. As I watched, he slammed it into gear and peeled out of the parking lot as fast as he could.

I shook my head. It warmed me to see that some things never changed –especially some of Duo's more endearing qualities, like showing his excitement in the speed of whatever vehicle he might be driving.

Smiling at him again was easy. "Would you believe that I actually learned a lot of things while I was there? I know it sounds… _bizarre_, but I have a lot of happy memories there. I leaned to paint and play piano and compose music there.

The stop for the stop sign was stilted and uncomfortable –probably because he'd been going way too fast and I'd actually buckled my seatbelt. When he looked at me, a sincere lavender light seemed to dance in his eyes. "I'm really glad that you received the help you needed, Hee-chan."

I started a little when he called me that. Where had he heard _that_ honorific? It wasn't one _I_ used frequently. Still, I had to smile: he'd given me a "cute" nickname I couldn't really complain about. "I'm glad, too." About which part, I wasn't so sure. Maybe both.

"So…" he paused, eyes going back to the road as he turned the corner and headed out of town. "Are you and Miss Relena an _item_?" he asked mischievously.

"Gods, no!" I exclaimed, completely bewildered by his question. Where had this come from, again? "She's… she's like a sister –one who writes me every week and expects prompt replies to her letters," I added tartly. "Besides: what would a pacifist want with a former soldier?"

Duo waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, I doubt that quite a bit. Besides, I'm gay." I informed him solemnly.

He slammed on the breaks, the force of the sudden stop causing my seatbelt to lock painfully. "You're _what_?"

_Fuck_, I couldn't believe I'd told him that. I covered my face with my hands. "Care to say that a bit louder? I doubt the entire _galaxy_ heard that."

He was still looking at me, evidently stunned. "You… you're gay?" he inquired lightly.

"_Hai_."

"How long? I mean, how long have you known?"

Well _this _topic was disconcerting. "I realized I liked men when I was 13. I realized that men were the only ones who interested me a few years later." I was not about to point to the years we'd actually _showered_ together. There were some things you just didn't say. Still, I looked at him for a moment before adding, "Don't worry: your virtue is safe, Duo."

He burst out laughing and began to accelerate out of our stand-still.

I had to smile. His laugh was beautiful: warm, deep enough to send shivers down my spine, resonant like the lower keys on a piano, pure, genuine, joyous. No more perfect sound existed in the universe, I was sure. "If you hadn't pushed, I wouldn't have needed to tell you," I accused.

He smiled. "If it makes you feel better, Hee-chan, Trowa and Quarte are both gay, as well. I'm bisexual, and I don't judge."

Strangely, it _did _make me feel better. "So, does that say something about eighty percent of military personnel or just Gundam pilots?" I inquired wryly. "And what's the other twenty percent up to, anyway?"

"Heh, he got married, if you can believe it! He and his wife have an adorable son, of which I am the godfather." He grinned like a child –probably at the irony of having the self-proclaimed Death as the godfather of _any_ child. Still, his gaze never left the road as the city turned to fields.

I let out a low whistle. "Mister Women-Are-Inferior, himself. I would have thought him gay long before Trowa had I not seen how Trowa looked at Quarte. That one's not much of a shocker, really."

"Perhaps he didn't have the right partner?" he inquired lightly, his murmur almost husky as heat tinged the gaze that flickered my way.

_Gods! Does that mean what I _think _it means, or it is my own wishful thinking?_ I wondered.

* * *

_Duo:_

The man sitting in the front seat of my car was not the same man I had known three years ago. Still, he was certainly the man I wanted. I figured that meant I was incredibly shallow and drawn to the superficial, or I was just that deeply in love with him. After all, hadn't good old Shakespeare written, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove"?

I wasn't sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that I was pretty sure that I was just that deeply in love with him. Don't get me wrong: the man was gorgeous then and he was gorgeous now. However, I was certain that I hadn't just been attracted to his body, and therein lie the large conundrum.

"Pardon me if I'm wrong, but last I knew, homosexuality wasn't contagious," he quipped, his lips quirking but Prussian blue eyes startled.

I wanted to glare at the road before me. _Damn it all! I _hate _it when that smug Chinese bastard just makes random guesses that prove to be correct! _Trust Wufei to be the one to suppose that changes in Heero might include enough improvement in his social skills to pick out the subtleties of human interaction.

Forcing a broad smile, I glanced over at him for a moment. "You wanna see all of them? They've been worried about you."

A weak smile barely tugged at his lips. "I… I've never been in a position to have friends and family and people that would actually worry over me… I guess it's a little strange to realize that I _do_ have people who care about me already."

It felt as though my heart had been ripped in half by those words. I'd been an orphan, too, but the people who'd raised me and took care of me had always made sure I knew that they cared for me. I had been very secure in that knowledge throughout my whole life. Heero had never gotten to have such a thing. The military had seen to his rearing, and the last thing harsh military men cared about was seeing to the more sensitive emotional needs of a child. It was no wonder that he was so emotionally stunted when I had met him the first time!

I wondered whether or not I should pull over. This conversation was definitely affecting me, and I wasn't sure how long I would be safe to drive under a certain level of emotional duress. Still, I decided against it. I didn't know how he would react to seeing just how much this was affecting me.

Yet, I couldn't keep myself from reaching out to him. My hand landed lightly on his forearm. "Well, Hee-chan… Wufei, Quarte, Trowa and I are all your friends. You're ours, bound to us through war and blood. And we all worry over you."

_Some of us a bit more strenuously than others,_ I thought self-derisively.

His answer was a shy, hesitant smile. "I… I wondered about you and the others, hoped you were alright, got angry at the public opinion against all of you…" He cleared his throat. "I just… I couldn't contact you. I wasn't sure…" A heavy sigh followed. "I was an asshole to all of you. I wouldn't have blamed you if you _didn't _want to hear from me."

Somehow, I smothered the words that popped into my head. _'It's alright: you're not the same person anymore, Hee-chan.' _And he wasn't. However, I was pretty sure he would hear that statement and think I was simply making an excuse for his behavior. It would be better if I could sooth him with the fact that we didn't care. The funny thing was, as far as I knew, none of the others _did_ care about that. And though I had been known to grouse about some of the ways I'd been used in the past, I really didn't care. It also helped that he seemed genuinely apologetic for it all.

The best response I could offer at the moment was simply reaching over and affectionately ruffling his chocolate-colored hair, somehow managing to keep my attention on the road as I did. Absently, I noticed that his hair was longer than I remembered it –long enough to lace ones' fingers in and fist ones' hands in it. "It's okay, Hee-chan. If I'm completely honest, I've been waiting three years for you to contact me, but what's really important –what really _matters_– is that you're okay now and that you reached out when you could. There is absolutely no use in ruing over the past, wishing and wanting to change how things happened. What really matters is right now, the present and the future as it stretches out before us." The words the good doctor had imparted seemed to echo in my head. "Hee-chan, I need you to know that you have always had a place with us: always have and always will. We… we all walked through Hell together. I hope that you will allow us the chance to help you, to be your friends, to be your _family._ You're ours: let us take care of you. Let us be here for you."

Midnight blue eyes shone bright with emotion. Those eyes had _always _been utterly gorgeous –glassy, emotionless, dark, and bright as sea glass. Watching him now –which was not a good idea, considering I was driving, but what the hell, we both liked living dangerously well enough– made me want to lean over and kiss him so hard that we couldn't tell where each other ended and we began. _Restraint is a virtue,_ I reminded myself. _Especially since neither one of you want to die in a ditch today._

"Aa. _Arigato,_ Duo." Hesitantly, he reached out to me, his hand slipping lightly against my skin until it fully cupped my cheek. When he realized that I was allowing such a touch with no issues, the smile that followed could have eclipsed the sun.

That smile lit a fire beneath my skin that threatened to consume all of me. there was only one thing to quell the flames: him. Swallowing hard, I desperately tried to hide the roaring desire from him.

Heero… he was so fragile right now. If I tried to share how I felt about him, how I'd always felt about him, what more would I be that a large road block for him? He needed to find himself before he could share himself. It would make things worse if I asked that of him, and I never wanted to hurt him. So I offered him a smile in return, knowing that no smile would ever be as breath-takingly beautiful as his was. I tried to keep him talking, keep him sharing. While that involved volunteering bits of myself to make him feel more comfortable with things, I didn't really mind all that much.

I had to heal this broken man.

I had to be the one to do it, because there was no one else who would step up to the plate and help him.

I had to be the one to do it, because no one else had as much to lose if he never truly healed.

* * *

_The Shakespeare quote that Duo thinks about is from Sonnet 116._

_This chapter marks the place where my revisions end and the new chapters will begin. I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter!_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


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